


If A Girl Makes A Reference In Another World And No One Is Around To Get It, Is It Still Funny?

by Symmet



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Anyone??, F/M, Humor, Modern Girl in Thedas, References galore, everyone??, idk man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-11-11
Packaged: 2018-07-15 05:54:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7210634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symmet/pseuds/Symmet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For whenever I make a one-shot story about a girl named Pan in a world called Thedas. Sometimes she's Inquisitor, sometimes she's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ain't Been Droppin No Damn Eves

**Author's Note:**

> Remember how at the very beginning of the game you can literally hear the argument between Cassandra and Roderick in the War Table room from the entrance of the Chantry? No wonder we get attacked at Haven, _anyone_ could eavesdrop on us!

They were in front of the Chantry, arguing about something probably inane, when she wandered up. 

She doesn’t remember that from the game. She’s pretty sure that Cassandra, Josephine, Leliana, and Cullen hadn’t blatantly and loudly discussed the definitely private options available to the Inquisition out in the open. At least, not this obviously.

Like, zoinks, Scoob. She'd mention it to the Inquisitor, but alas, the elf was off galavanting through the Hinterlands, collecting elfroot to his heart's content.

And yet, she couldn't stop herself from edging closer because she was a glutton for gossip. Or super secret Inquisition business. Either or.

“I still say we should send a force with the Herald. It will send a message.” Cullen was arguing.

“Yes, but what message, Commander? We must be more delicate with our approach in Orlais. It may be that all of Val Royeux is watching.” Leliana answered, ever careful.

“A message that we are unified - formidable. We are not trying to gain the favor of Val Royeux - our focus is on the Templars.”

“But they would not be amiable towards such a message. They are worried enough about our motives - appearing with an army at our backs would be seen as a threat! They will not know what to do when we arrive at all.” Josephine pointed out.

“No, we would be fools not to go, and they fools not to expect us.” Cassandra cut in.

“Nobody expects the Inquisition, Cassandra.” She says, without thinking much, just making the one joke.

The advisors all turn to stare at her.

“And why would this have anything to do with you?” Cullen accused, though not in an unfriendly manner.

She held her hands up, “You tell me, since this seems like a public debate.”

The advisors shuffled awkwardly as they recognized their surroundings. Cullen coughed and pointed towards the Chantry doors, and Cassandra held them open as the rest streamed in.

She turned to glare back at Pan, but seemed surprised to only see a slightly bemused smile on Pan’s face.

She gave a PentaghastTM disgusted sigh when all Pan did was wink at her.


	2. Why Explain Joint Pain When You Can Be A Mysterious Person?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get it? Herald?
> 
> Because she can predict when it's gonna rain -
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, fine, I'll just let myself out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inquisitor, sided with Templars in this one (since they're at Haven and she's befriending Cole).

In the beginning, Pan was gripped with a terrible, horrible fear.

She was terrified of Solas being able to go in her dream, of him seeing her thoughts.

Of what Cole could say!

Never mind that he probably wasn't that invasive, or that minding reading and dream walking probably weren't the same thing.

Never mind that Cole wasn't even here and she just needed to chill.

It was his eyes, she decided eventually.

He was trying to do that x-ray thing JK Rowling said Dumbledore did to Harry.

It made her shiver, and not in the poetic way.

In the random-spasm-through-your-body-and-god-I-hope-no-one-saw-that way.

You know the one.

And yet nothing seemed to come of her fear for a long while, and for that, she was thankful.

_

 

Once they finished saving the Templars, she sought Cole out immediately, and spoke to him in her mind. 

That was the clearest way, wasn't it? To reach him and not compromise herself in the process? 

She'd always thought that would be _fucking rad_.

She was totally right.

Soft grey eyes, pale face, silver blonde hair, watching and waiting.

_Don’t tell them what I am._

“You are afraid, afraid of being unwelcome.”

_Among other things._

“It doesn’t work like that. You shouldn’t be afraid that they’ll fear. You could help so much.”

_I aim to. Just… I don’t want him to know._

“I could make it go away, if it hurt them, scared them. If they didn’t understand that you were good.”

_No… could you make Solas forget?_

She didn’t believe for one second Cole could make Solas forget. And if he could… then not permanently. Once Solas became… more, then it would fall apart. And she hoped to save everyone, not just a certain bald elf.

“…Yes. He would bite, claw at it until it became undone, or it would fall apart when he would grow too big.” Cole agreed sadly upon consideration.

_I mean, you can tell them some things, if you ask about it._

“How do I know? What things? What if I can’t ask you?”

She realized the stupidity of that plan. Her mind, memories, and mentality were far too varied for that to work as an applicable fix to the problem. The solutions wasn’t that simple. It wasn’t fair to Cole to make him try to mind read his way through her feelings.

It also wasn’t safe.

_...Fine. If someone is in danger, then you can tell them._

And then she saw a most peculiar thing; Cole smiled, in a soft, slightly lopsided way.

As if he’d liked that answer.

“Yes, not just you, but someone who needs it, to live, to know."

She didn't really know what to do with that, so she made finger guns and awkwardly backed away making "pew" noises.

_

 

“A lighted path, the future speaks through you. You know that name. They used to call you Herald, too.”

_Cole!_

“Sorry.” He said, sheepishly.

Too late, she thinks, as Solas ambled closer.

“Does it count if everyone is in danger?” He murmured.

She grinned at him in an exasperated manner.

“Everyone is always in danger, Cole."

 _No, only if someone is in immediate danger and my secrets would help save them or get them out of that situation._ She clarified as Solas appeared at Cole’s side, a curious tilt to his head.

“Oh!” Cole cried like a detective discovering the culprit, “The cook's knife!” And vanished, leaving a slightly baffled elf and her behind.

He was watching her, with those eyes again. She didn’t want to wax poetic, but they really were stormy blue. She felt like they were a place far away, and this really wasn’t a good idea. She’d start falling, forgetting to keep the bits of herself inside from streaming out.

She looked up, instead, away from that invasive stare, and blinked as she realized her ankle was throbbing.

It had happened during soccer once, broken and then swiftly bandaged up, but it was braced with titanium and prone to announcing wet weather when the barometric pressure dropped low enough to irritate the fluids in her foot.

You know, people with arthritis can sense when it’s gonna pour? Well, she didn’t have arthritis, but it was similar enough.

“Oh, it’s going to rain.” She said sadly, wondering if she was gonna have to hobble back to her room in the downpour or if she’d be spared.

It rained hard and quick in Haven, she’d learned. It started with a snap and ended with a snap, but you could never tell how long it would go for.

“How can you tell?” Solas said in surprise, looking up with her.

Sky was fluffy and cloudy as always.

Well, except for the giant slash in the sky.

“I wonder how it works for the Breach when it’s raining.” She mumbled, “Does rain just not fall?”

Before he could answer, she laughed, “I suppose you could just stand underneath. Not a bad view, s’long as you’re certain nothing’s gonna come out at you. Maybe that’s what they were after.”

“Who?” Solas asked.

She answered this time, though her gaze was far away, her voice faint, “Those who put it up. If only all they’d wanted was a giant umbrella, not the end of the world.”

She didn’t notice his gaze sharpen on her at first, because she was distant, a part of her drawn to the Breach, the whispers and wisps writhing within. But she was startled out of it eventually, blinking in surprise and asking very loudly, “Is there something in my teeth?”

He was apparently drawn out a similar fixation, because he took a half step back, and a murmured, “What?”

Her hands rose self consciously, “You’re oogling, did I get something on my face?”

He paused, then deftly lifted a hand and pressed a thumb to her cheek for a moment before wiping something away.

He took another half step back.

Then seemed to realize something.

“You were speaking to Cole in your mind!” He sounded so surprised, it made her smile.

“Yes. He seems to understands better…at least I hope so.”

“And it would make your conversations more private, one would think.” Solas murmured, eyes narrowing just slightly.

“Yes!” She agreed openly, “That too! Well, unless you can get what Cole says, because I can’t read his mind, so it’s only a one way thing.”

She pondered that, “I wonder if Spirits ever talk like that. Or if they can even read each others’ minds. Now that would be interesting.”

Meanwhile, he was staring at her like she’d grown a second head and proceeded to knock it against the other.

“You are a very strange individual.” He says quietly by way of response.

She grins cheekily at him, baffled, “Why thank you. I’d say I try, but I’m a true born natural.”

He opened his mouth to respond - with what, she doubts even he knew - but a large drop fell on his head as he did so.

“Rain!” She announced helpfully, “Gotta run, chuckles, this in not a friendly shower. See ya later.”

And then she turned on her (other, unfussy, not previously injured) heel, and made a very fortuitous escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna level with you guys there was nothing on her face, Solas was just Intensely Staring and also Didn't Want To Admit He Was Intensely Staring.


	3. Apparently Yes, Yes It Is Still Funny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had a sad thing written for Pan but I decided angst wasn't really the deal for these lil one-offs so here's some goofery instead.

Pan lay in the darkness, eyes wide open. What they had failed to mention in Dragon Age: Inquisition was that while indeed _wet_ , the Fallow Mire was also hot.

Like really, _really_ hot.

The humidity almost made her faint - except of course she couldn't sleep. She was sweating like a pig. No wonder there was disease and catastrophe galore here - she was surprised there wasn't a mosquito transferring zombie blood and _that_ was the cause behind the undead outbreak. (The swamps were blessedly, thankfully, devoid of Mosquitos as far as she had noticed. Perhaps if she was lucky the anchor was a natural bug repellent on top of all its other Cool Nifty Tricks).

She let go of a long sigh in the dark, mourning the fact that she could not simply strip naked. Well she _could_. But an undead attack could happen any time and facing all those gnashing teeth defenseless was _really_ not on her bucket list. (Even though she'd been told multiple times that being bitten did not turn you undead by many of the inquisitions scientists whenever she dropped off some diseased brain tissue for Minaeve's replacement). And also - she was fairly certain the glowing elf eyes weren't just for show. She can’t fully be sure because she’d had shitty sight back on Earth, so even normal sight was an upgrade. Can she see better in the dark? Or is anything a step up from blurry darkness? She was fairly certain if they were anything like cat eyes, they meant business. Which meant Solas could probably see her in the dark. Or maybe it was another Long Lost Quirk of the elven empire. Which would mean Solas could still see her. At the very least she wasn't taking any chances.

For a moment she longed to be back in her dorm with her roommates, where it would not only be acceptable, but she wouldn't possibly be attacked at any moment. Well, mostly also she missed the AC. She would punch someone for some AC. Why hadn't mages discovered that yet? Disappointment.

But of course the moment passed, even if she was perspiring heavily when it did.

She turned her head in the darkness scrunching her gaze towards the elf who shared the tent with her.

She wondered if Solas could force himself to fall asleep despite the conditions. She knew he hadn't cast any spells when they laid down to sleep, and one of the few things she’d retained from 7th grade Health class was that you couldn't sleep when it was too hot - while you could sleep when it was too cold. That and that birth videos were traumatizing.

She squinted at the black mass, trying to turn on any latent elf supervision. No luck.

She pondered it for a moment and then decided she was too bored to do anything else.

Very, very softly, she called out, “Solas?"

There was a long pause, and for a moment she considered raising her voice and attempting again. Just as she took another breath, a sigh cut the air.

"Yes, Inquisitor?" Said the most mature version of a petulant complaint she'd ever heard.

It made her grin in the darkness - she could almost envision his scowl. Or her elfy darkvision worked.

Why so grumpy? It wasn't like _she_ had anything to do with the weather.

Although in all fairness heat could make one snappy. Especially is one was someone who _really_ enjoyed his beauty sleep, and currently was evaded by it, seemingly.

She sat up, "I'm gonna guess you don't know any spells to make yourself sleepy enough to ignore the heat, huh."

She could almost feel his forehead wrinkling, “Unfortunately not." Came the enunciated answer.

She remembered really early on, in Haven one time she'd asked Josephine to order some melatonin for her - without even realizing. It wasn't until later when she received a shipment of rare Antavian lizards called Melatin that the strange look Josie gave her started to make sense.

She'd named all of them and remembered the names of at least half of them. But like so many things, they'd perished with Haven. Or were left behind. She liked to think they were roaming free in the absence of their human overlords but it wasn't like lizards would thrive in the snow.

Snow.

Damn she wished she could switch places with those lizards right now.

"I was... Unprepared for the temperature of the Mire." He finally admitted, covers rustling as he adjusted his position.

"You mean 'golly I wish those scouts of ours had thought to mention that its almost unbearable at night in the report when we got ready to come save some soldiers from some angry locals and dead locals' right? Is that what you mean?"

The pause is so drawn out she thinks maybe Solas doesn't have the energy to put up with her antics and is considering swapping tent mates, when she just barely hears it.

A small chuckle. It's over as quickly as it started, and she's left wondering if there as such things as auditory hallucinations caused by heat.

"Something like that."

"If it makes you feel better we haven't missed _that_ much sleep yet. It just _seems_ like it's been ages since, ya know, twiddling our thumbs in the dark.”

It occurs to Pan that informing an old-ass immortal that it has only been an hour or two in comparison to an _age_ is probably not one of her brightest moments.

"It is curious how when we do not enjoy our state of affairs, time is slow, but when we are enjoying it, it goes too quickly. If only we could speed up or go back in time for when it counts" Solas had a faraway thoughtfulness to his voice, And Pan did a double-take at that.

Oh no, not _introspective_ Solas. Not _now_. She was barely coherent enough to carry a functioning conversation. 

She mentally cracked her knuckles.

Well, two could play at that game.

“There is a saying: Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That is why it is called the present," ahe offered in her best sagely impression.

"An interesting statement. Is it a quote?” Solas murmurs.

"Some good ol' Master Ooguyay for ya.” She said, preening.

"I do not recognize them. Who are they?” He questions thoughtfully.

"Karate ninja turtle monk guy.” She said, biting down the insides of her cheeks.

"Pardon?"

"Kung fu panda.” She manages to choke out without any other unbecoming noises.

"I understood none of that.” He said flatly.

There was a pause as she desperately fought the urge to snort, repressing her delirium - “Is it some Dalish story?" Solas offered in confusion.

That was when she started laughing.


	4. Quit... HORSING Around (Okay, I'm Sorry That Was Unneccesary)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to write something where Pan gets to say Bye Felicia to Bull. That's it that's why I wrote this.

The first time she realizes she has to ride a horse, everything sort of grinds to a halt.

It’s awfully _large_.

Never mind that Bull is large, and Bronto are large and they _did_ have to fight several _large_ dragons at some point.

It huffs a little and turns its doeful eyes her way, blinking curiously.

She squints at it suspiciously.

She wasn’t one of those wild country girls that could ride bareback at any moment and had a rich uncle that owned a ranch. She did go to a YMCA summer camp once, but the horse she had been riding spooked and broke out into a gallop, which scared the shit out of 10 year old and resulted in a scraped up Pan.

Sure, horses were pretty. From a distance. Like, a sizable distance. At least a couple feet and a fence thrown in for good measure.

How in the hell has she travelled through Thedas for these last years without needing to ride a horse?

It crooked its neck towards her, ears zeroing in on her position as it snuffed at her frozen body in hopes of discovering a treat.

Horses could smell fear, right? Or was that dogs?

“You okay, Boss?” She hears Bull say, and knows instantly he’s zeroed in on her. God fucking damn shit fucking Ben Hassrath training.

“Fine.” She says, voice wavering slightly.

She fucking fought demons. She stared down _Corephetits_. The hell was this sweet old mare gonna do to her?

It pulled back its lips to reveal yellow teeth.

“Yup, nope, bye I’m out of here.” She said in a rush, stumbling away -

right into Bull.

Dazed she tries to back up a little. _Very firm._ She thinks blankly to herself.

“Whoa, there, Boss. You sure you alright? Something wrong with this horse?”

“Why? Something wrong with yours?” she said faintly, blinking as she felt his hands gently encompass her shoulders.

"You know we'll get started sooner on this expedition if you actually get on the horse." He said, chuckling.

"Felicia, _bye_." She said in aggravation as she attempted to maneuver out of his grip.

"Hey, Boss, we can get you a new horse if you need one." He offered.

"Oh, how did he put it," She said thoughtfully, trying to remember the Sherlock Holmes movie. It was like the bazillionth one. Or like fourth. Certainly the big companies had to want to squeeze a fourth Skerlock Holmes movie out of Robert Downey Jr. She remembered the quote, "Ah yes, something like 'They're dangerous at both ends and crafty in the middle.' NO thank you, good day." She struggled a little more - in vain.

And then yelped as she was suddenly lifted into the air and promptly placed onto the back of the horse.

“Oh no. No no no. _Oh, you are **so** fired after this_.” She hissed through her teeth in a blind panic, ramrod straight as the horse shifted underneath her.

"Easy Boss, you're alright. She's not doin' anything to you, nice mare, see?"

"Don't make me punch you Bull I swear to G-the Maker don't fucking make me do it." She said, twitching in the saddle.

“Hey, Bull, quit Qunari-Handling the Herald!” Called a familiar voice from behind them, drawing Bull's attention away as she stared down, unseeing.

The dwarf marched up, but she was too focused on the living, breathing beast under her that she didn’t notice Solas join as well until she heard his voice, jumping slightly as her tunnel vision gave way to the sudden crowding of men around her.

Where were all her girls? She wanted Cassandra to hold her. Never mind that Cassandra would never hold her, the thought was slightly comforting.

“You could have reminded her that it was not unlike riding a Halla.” Solas was saying, “There was no need to physically pick her _up_.”

“Nah, wouldn’t have worked. I _do_ have training you know.” Bull said authoritatively, arms crossed casually.

"Wow, who knew Ben Hassrath was really Qunlat for 'trauma psychologist' ? Not me, that's for sure." She mumbled under her breath.

"She wasn’t gonna get on, no matter how much you coddled her." He continued, ignoring her, which was slightly irksome.

At the word coddle, one of her hands shot up to smack him lightly upside the horn. “Watch it, big guy.” She snapped in annoyance, “Otherwise I’m bout to _coddle_ a real mean right hook.”

“Not your prerogative.” Bull said, in a tone that would have seemed smug from anyone else, but seemed genuine from him. She scowled.

Then remembered she was on a horse when it shifted and took a step forward. Instantly she lost track of the other people around her as she clenched the reins in a white knuckled grip, knowing full well they were about as useful for steering as… fuck, she didn’t know. A rubber ducky for a car. Metaphors were kind of hard to come up with in stressful situations like this.

They were arguing again. How annoying. She was having a crisis and they were standing around being useless.

The horse gave a little shake and her thoughts retracted instantly from annoyance to a whine of white noise as her mind blanked from fear.

“Bull was right.” Came a whispery voice from the side. And even though she detested her new growing audience, she instinctively relaxed a little at the sound of Cole’s entrance.

“It threw her off when she was little. Stranded her in a ditch. She remembers how it felt when her ankle twisted - can hear the tendons popping in her mind.”

Oh, was that what that was? Fucking morbid. _Please, little Emo boy, tell me more._

"She remembers, too much strength for a little girl to hold. She remembers the scraps on her skin, even though they've faded. She remembered nothing, no control, no power, no choice. She remembers fear."

“That's actually way more dramatic than it needs to be.” She insists, though no one seems to be listening.

They decide its best to push back the expedition for a couple of days.

They keep her on the horse.

____

 

Her name is Maggie. The horse, at least. Pan calls her Frou-Frou in her head. If only she could get a matching hat. Unfortunately, life isn’t as simple as it is in The Aristocats. Maggie certainly doesn’t talk to her or reveal the plots of conniving kitten-stealing butlers. At least not in any language _Pan_ knows. Maybe she should learn Antivan.

Maggie might be less boring if she spoke Antivan.

There's got to be a spell _somewhere_ about teaching animals languages, right? There were flying cows in Tevinter.

Pan _does_ think putting a hat on the horse might actually be something both Sera and Vivienne could agree was a good idea. Probably. Also it would be an absolute _hoot_ if Varric ended up trying to figure out how to add that into his books.

Oh well, life is cruel and unfair.

Speaking of which, they made her practice.

Like a lot.

____

 

“Get me a Dracolisk.” She demands the first time they insist she'll need proper training. They all turned alarmed and baffled expressions her way.

“Andraste’s tits, you want one of those _scale_ things as a mount? Over sweet ol’ Maggie?” Varric choked.

Cassandra and Solas both looked a mix of alarmed and perplexed.

Bull just laughed.

Cullen looks bewildered, "Herald, surely you can find something less...visually repulsive?"

"Your _Mom_ is visually repulsive." She snapped instantly in defense of Dracolisks everywhere.

"Sorry, that was uncalled for." She added instantly, a far away part of her mind giggling at the 5th grader joke all the same.

"Herald, I don't understand. Why are our current mounts unsuitable for you? We cannot obtain the stags you are used to, but surely the horses are an adequate substitute until such a time that -"

"You _love_ horses." She interrupted, quoting that one movie with Russel Brand. The one where he was rich.

That drew Cullen off track. "Pardon? Well, yes, of course-"

She cut him off before he could get truly started, "Well I don't trust them. Their eyes, their _sneaky_ feet. Their shoes are permanent. Who makes that kind of commitment to a shoe?

Bull kept laughing.

She didn’t get a Dracolisk.

Tyrants.

____

 

One day, they’re all riding out towards a Hinterland Rift, at a leisurely trot. It’s sunny out, and Pan wishes for the fourth time that day as they take a long detour to avoid some overexcitable bears that she had a more intimidating mount.

To think she’d wanted to add _flowers_ to Maggie’s ensemble!

“I miss my unicorn.” She says petulantly, too quiet to be heard - she thought.

“Is that what the Dalish are calling Halla these days?” Varric called back jokingly, though she glared when Solas turned around curiously as if expecting her to agree.

“You think of softness and light, a horn of star shine. But it bred in the dark and remembered the thrill of battle and blood.” Cole said sagely, towards Varric, she assumed. “It’s not gone - still it waits for a worthy master.” He added consolingly to her.

She stared down glumly at Maggie’s backside.

“You don’t think I’m in a Deluxe Edition version of Thedas, do you?” She sighed, not noticing the others staring at them in confusion.

Unfortunately, since Varric and Solas were too busy ogling the both of them in unsubtle curiosity, another bear showed up and scattered the group with a furious roar.

Maggie didn’t like that, it seemed, and decided pelting in the opposite direction was the best option available, Pan clutching to her neck in a desperate attempt to stay on, swearing to herself that she wouldn't get on another horse until Hell froze over. Or the Void. Or the Maker's underpants.

Basically no more damn horses.

____

 

When they caught up to Pan, Maggie was tied up to a tree, grazing, and a very unamused Pan, half covered in mud, was glaring at a poorly constructed campfire, roasting a rabbit.

They gathered around her, Solas insisted she ride with him (hey, no complaints from Pan), and they went home.

The moment they got back to Haven, before she’d even gotten clean, she leapt off the horse, marched up to Josephine’s office and had some meeting with her and Leliana.

A crow was sent out.

No one was sure what it was all about until a week or so later, an undead horse with a sword sticking from its forehead appeared in the Haven Stables.

Perhaps the most unnerving thing was how much time she spent saying “Coochie coochie coo” to it as it butted its slightly rotted head to hers.

"This." Varric kept saying in disbelief, " _This_ is better than Maggie?"

"I guess this is what happens when you don't get the Inquisitor a Dracolisk." Bull adds thoughtfully.

No one thanks him for the observation.


	5. The One Where Dragons Are Convenient Scapegoats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What's angst when laden with various jokes? Sure, someone dies, but I promise to stick a fart balloon under their body before they fall! Wait... you guys don't have those yet, do you? Crap."
> 
> \- Pan, probably, at some point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna post the sad thing anyways.

Solas asked her for a medical check up.

...This is all the dragon’s fault.

So _maybe_ she’d thought everyone else did cool shit when fighting enemies, and _maybe_ she therefore thought it was a good idea to grab onto the back of the Ferelden Frostback because _maybe_ she's still a little girl at heart and what little girl doesn't want to ride a dragon?

Well _maybe_ she got thrown a clear 20 feet shortly thereafter and tore up her arm on the rocks she landed rather comfortably on.

She’d been bandaged up, severely chastised, and sealed into a veritable blood pact to never do anything like that again.

_Because they made her promise while she was still covered in her own blood. Ha. Maybe Dorian would get that joke, except he won't look at her. She's gonna guess it's because his mustache got singed._

He's gotta have a spell for that.

Cole repeats it, _Bad Cole! Now he's glaring at me!_ , and that is how she finds out Dorian has also been crying because he turns around on his horse to glare angrily at her.

Right.

Maybe he's angry about the singed mustache _and_ the makeup smudges.

...and the near death experience she went through.

She's _fine_. Everything is _fine_. Except for maybe the rest of the world.

...She heavily maintains that this is the dragon's fault.

 

_

 

It takes a couple weeks to get back to Skyhold. Partially because she likes taking her time to wander through the Hinterlands and do Good Deeds. Possibly she also feels the need to take a couple detours to prove that she's perfectly functional.

And maybe shake that whole experience off a little. Closed a couple naggy rifts. That asshole one at the hinterlands farm, which then allowed her to complete the Druffalo Roam quest. Not too shabby, though her anchor hand was a little twitchy from all the rifting.

By the time they return, she's mostly forgotten the dragon experience, which is what she'd kinda hoped for, mind instead fresh with the many questions she has about demon rams and if she could possibly befriend Lord Woolsely and whether he could visit Skyhold some time.

Soon after they’ve gotten back, her favorite apostate wanders over, looking a mix between worried and attempting at cool indifference.

He really undoes the effect of cool indifference when he’s mother-henning her the moment he gets within earshot, with all the “How is your arm? Is it fine? Are you experiencing any pain?”

And _maybe_ , since she’s already been looked over, she completely misses the injury he is referring to and thinks he's referring to the anchored hand she's massaging slightly as she considers the possibilities of mailing an official invitation to a ram.

“Huh?” She looked down at the mark, and then says thoughtfully “Oh, because it’s eating me from the inside, right?”

There is a beat of absolute silence.

She had to take a moment to realize how casually that was said. She looked up.

His expression was one of faint horror.

Like she adamantly - heh Adamant - defends. This is all the _dragon’s_ fault.

The point was, she’d lost a _lot_ of blood.

" _Joking!_ " She exclaims loudly in a rush of air, "I was joking. Ha, am I funny or what?"

He continues staring. _Right, never going to try and ride a dragon again, thanks. Look what it gets you. Greedy._

“Did I say that out loud?” She laughs awkwardly, “I meant, ‘Yeah, I’m all good. Thanks for asking, pal.’” She almost reaches out to pat him on the back, but then decided against it.

He watches her, and hoarsely asks, “Can you feel it?”

“Nope. Right as rain. I bet if you give the situation a couple years, _then_ it will rapidly devolve from there.” She says playfully, adding a couple "tch tch" cocked gun noises as she points some finger guns his way in a panicked attempt to say anything at all, the first things that come to mind, and attempt to undo her catastrophe. 

His expression grows a tad more horrified.

Ah, shit.

She’d always assumed he _knew_ , because how could he not at least consider it a definite possibility? Hello, mortal over here? All these weak fleshy bits and a God Juice bomb just slap dash stuck in one of the weak bits? But it seemed like he’d just really, really wanted to believe it wasn’t true.

Fuck.

She does a little jig with her arms and then excused herself as promptly as she could.

She feels the only reason he doesn’t stop her is because he’s still recovering from shock.

Godamn dragons.

 

_

 

When he sees her next, she can tell from the set of his shoulders, he’s prepared this time.

“Ambassador, a word with the Inquisitor?” He smoothly slips into the conversation.

She hopes desperately for a moment that Josie, _lovely Josie_ , will see the panic in her eyes, take pity on her damned soul, and pull out that huge pile of paperwork she’s been neglecting and insist that the Inquisitor has shit she ought to be doing.

Josephine looks up, “Oh, well, of course, Solas. Excuse me, Inquisitor, please remember to look over and sign those documents.” And then Pan watches as her chance of escape walks down the corridor and fades from sight.

Damn it.

“Follow me, if you would.” He says, and turns and starts out of the hall.

Her heart seizes in her chest as he walks away.

He seems distant now - cold.

Almost… angry.

His expression had been stormy, and there’s that wrinkle between his eyebrows that’s shamefully captivating. Or would be.

If there wasn’t a stone in her gut, a chill at her back, and a pressure at the back of her thoat.

She follows him.

 

-

 

He leads them somewhere quiet and secluded, past the throngs of the public casually wandering about Skyhold, through the kitchen, near the cliff drop where they store prisoners, and to a nice little niche that she feels cheated isn't actually included in the game. Those _Game Devs._ She thinks in calm hysteria,  _and their damn dragons that throw people. What's up with that?_

He promptly turns around to confront her.

“You have several years left.” He says it as a statement awaiting confirmation.

Her breath hitches. It’s not a big deal - it’s _not_. She’s helped so many, why is he making her feel nauseous about this? This of all things?

“ _Look at me_.” He orders, and she’s vividly remembering the last time they had a conversation like this except now he can see her panic and she can’t end the dream to escape.

Maybe he realizes that too.

His face is set, but something softens slightly, even if it’s tinged with pain. His shoulders slump slightly, and that’s what makes her blurt a slight answer.

“I… yes, somewhere abouts.”

He closes his eyes.

“And you know this.”

Again, not asking, but waiting for her to deny it. He’s not asking how she knows.

Maybe he’s given up on finding out.

“Something like that.” She whispers, fingers nervously intertwining in front of her.

She doesn’t expect the anger, though. The furious set to his body as he stalks around.

Is he angry at her? Angry at himself? Angry at the world?

If she's really lucky, maybe he's angry at the dragon?

“How…” He begins and stops himself, takes a deep breath, “How could you fail to mention this?”

She blinks.

“Fail to… wait, what?”

He looks at her, angry yet beseeching in a gesture, tilting his head slightly as he tries to understand.

“You did not think to mention that you were dying?”

She stares at him.

“I thought.” Her voice cracks and her throat seizes under the pressure.

Why he gotta stare at her like that anyways? Why does she even feel like crying?

She tries again, “It was… obvious…?”

His immediate reaction, the horror slipping back into his expression, forces her to hastily add, “I mean, how many endings was I gonna have? You stick a ball of god energy in a mortal, that’s going to have consequences.” She waves the aforementioned limb in question, anchor crackling quietly in her palm.

Her voice has gotten softer, and she steps closer as he looks down.

"Eventually my body was going to fail. You _must_ have realized this. You must have thought -”

“I thought you had more time.” He said, voice wrought with pain, “I thought we could save you.”

Her hand reaches up to touch his chest but then sinks back down again before she could go through with it. That's kinda awkward, right?

He doesn't think about her like that, she totally hasn't been following through with high approval conversation choices.

She swallows.

“We could always cut off my hand?” She offers, half joking. Inside she winks at herself as a voice in the back of her mind chided her on timing.

She isn’t expecting him to hug her.

She is no where near expecting the sudden soft embrace, firm and warm, wrapping around her.

“Oh, _Solas_.” She whispers, because it slips out against her will.

He stiffens, but does not draw back.

“How can you value your life so little.” He says hoarsely to her shoulder, “How can you feel so nonchalantly about -“

“I could survive!” She says, “I just said the mark was killing me! Things could happen! Things I don’t know about!” _And some things I do!_ she doesn’t add.

Because she likes hugs.

He leans back anyways, to stare at her. It’s an expression of sadness that warps into that intense searching look he does, as if he’s trying to look through her and parse if her words are truthful or not.

She’s starting to realize he can never quite tell.

She smiles sadly at him and he breaks away.

“Shall I inform the others?” He murmurs.

“Please don’t.” She blurts, “If they didn’t know already - which, based off your reaction, is a solid _no_ \- then I certainly don’t want them to know _now_. I - can you imagine? I don’t want to be treated like I’m on my deathbed. Even when I’m literally _on_ my death bed.”

For a moment she remembers her annoyance while everyone clucked at her while she was recovering from one (1) goddamn dragon.

He nods numbly.

They stand in silence for a while, as the words sink farther and farther away, until there is nothing left to say.

Her tongue is heavy as lead. But she can only think one thing, over and over, as the silence becomes more oppressive.

_It’s all that fucking dragon’s fault._

After a time, she looks up slightly - notices he had been watching her, drat - and he makes a vague motion with one hand.

It says he does not have the heart to speak, to say -

Goodbye.

He means for now, in this moment, _goodbye_ , but also, one day, sooner than he’d thought.

 

They separate.

 

 _Let's never have another conversation like that again_. She thinks to herself as she wanders out uselessly into the market area and heads to the stables to go sit with her drakolisks and not talk to anyone for a while.

She sits in the hay, her back to the stable door so people don't notice her, petting her Basking Longma (indeed it _was_ basking as she showers it with much affection).

 

"You wouldn't throw me off, would you?" She coos as it rumbles peacefully at her.

"You should have reminded me that I already get to ride a dragon." She sighs, "Otherwise this whole emotional rollercoaster of a fiasco could have been avoided. Mitigated at least."

 

It chirps, eyes closed and head on her lap.

 

"Yeah." She agrees, letting go of a heavy sigh, "Yeah, me too."


End file.
